Charmed
by keiminnn
Summary: When England's magic and America's love-sickness collide, they end up summoning someone from the past. Now how does America possibly expect to win in a contest for England's affection if he's competing against his younger self? USUK, no shouta


**Summary:** When England's magic and America's love-sickness collide, they end up summoning someone from their past. Not only does he prove trouble, but an overall obstacle for America's chance at a romantic relationship with England. How can he possibly expect to win in a competition for England's affection if he's competing against his younger self?

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><p>Chapter One<p>

**An Unrequited Love**

It was when he was old enough to travel on his own and matters with Arthur about the Revolution had at last been mostly settled that Alfred decided to make regular visits across the Atlantic to England. Even though Arthur put a lot of resistance at first, somehow— after all these decades— Alfred has never failed to spend the day or a couple nights at Arthur's house. Yes, sometimes he still got the occasional door to the face or that one time a cup of hot tea, but in the end he got his way.

More so, contrary to what Arthur may believe, Alfred's visitings weren't successful attempts of annoying the hell out of him or messying his home. Alfred saw them as great opportunities to show Arthur that despite declaring independence and teasing English culture or what a naggy old man he could be, Alfred still liked Arthur.

Very, _very _much even.

It's been a long time since he decided it, but one day he'd get Arthur to fall in love with him. Alfred had fallen for him years ago, and in the 1900s, Alfred ceased his chance to gain Arthur's trust once more and show him what a real hero he was. Despite Arthur's beginning reluctance and bitterness, Alfred remained persistent until they were friends by the end of The Great War, then the best friends—as Alfred described their current relationship— they were today. But even though things were going great between them, that wasn't enough for Alfred. In his ultimate plan, he'd show how cool and heroic he was, and Arthur would realize he was in love with Alfred too.

Thanks to Arthur's great stubbornness however, the first phase of the plan had been extended and decades later they've yet to become the couple Alfred would always dream about. His awesome strategic plans during both world wars, leadership skills, masterful video gaming, "dates" to McDonald's, and charming good looks apparently didn't impress Arthur.

Which was why today Alfred had arranged another surprise visit, dressed in a fine suit holding a beautiful bouquet of roses. While in another vain attempt to clean his storage, an old suit Alfred wore during his colonial days reminded him how much Arthur liked to see him dress properly, and instead of bringing a rose genetically altered to have two hundred twenty petals (which Arthur had too quickly rejected), he brought natural, fresh ones. It was about time he changed his game plan.

Alfred would completely take Arthur by surprise with how perfectly his hair was gelled back (besides Nantucket), the way every wrinkle on his new black suit had been completely pressed away (not to mention how there wasn't a single speck of ketchup), the deep and mature way his voice came out, and the lovely bouquet of roses he brought— he even replaced Texas with a pair of contacts for the occasion!

In his mind, Alfred imagined them going on the perfect date— fancy English restaurant, Alfred saying all sorts of sophisticated things and funny jokes, maybe a movie or walk in the park too— whatever Arthur felt like this time (as opposed to Alfred always deciding for them), then Arthur would be completely won over and the two of them would finally get together.

However, it didn't seem like any of that would be happening at the moment.

"Arthur! Arthur, I know you're in the there!"

For the past five minutes, Alfred had been waiting on the steps of the porch. Luggage bag beside him, bouquet in one hand, door knocker on the other, calling out to Arthur without any results. Of course, this type of thing happened once in a while since Alfred usually kept his arrivals without a thought to his host's schedule. It was sheer bad luck that it happened today of all days.

Maybe the usual warning of vandalism would do the trick.

"If you don't open up in three seconds, I'll just have to get in by force!" He could act as the gentleman he planned to be once the door opened. For show, Alfred would normally roll up his sleeves along his elbows, but the suit would get ruined as he was. So he could only hope Arthur was on his way to the door as he began counting down. "Three!"

Planting his feet firmly on the ground and gripping the door knob with both hands, Alfred drawled "Twooo...!"

No response so far.

Though Alfred reasoned Arthur was probably inside stumbling to yank the door open before it could be irreparably damaged. _But I'll totally blow his mind before he can even yell at me!_ he thought.

Letting go, so Arthur would have no trouble opening, Alfred bellowed "One!"

And the moment he let go, Arthur was—

_Not here_, Alfred thought irritably when there was no fuming Englishman in front of him. He stepped sideways to press his hands and face to the window.

The house appeared entirely empty. There was no sight of Arthur enjoying a cup of tea with a newspaper in the living room, nor was he in the kitchen fruitlessly preparing an unburnt batch of scones.

"Hm. He's really not here," Alfred thought aloud, pulling away.

Be that as it may, this situation certainly wasn't new to Alfred and he was not deterred. Simply, once Arthur got back, he would come home to Alfred and all his charm, still be impressed, and they would continue on their date as arranged. Thus, he began his search for the hidden spare key Arthur had to relocate too many times the two of them could care to count.

"Not under the mat... not on the frame either... Ah, hear it is." Alfred pulled his hand along with a tiny silver key out of a potted plant on the porch.

Shaking his hand free of dirt, Alfred fitted the key into its hole and let himself in as if it were his own home. The contents of his bag clattered while he dropped it to the floor and proceeded forward. The only sound in the house being the loud thudding of Alfred's footsteps going upstairs.

Arthur had always been a heavy sleeper and had a surprising habit of dozing off. Perhaps he took an afternoon nap or fell asleep in his study.

Even so, Arthur was no where to be found when Alfred searched his usual spots.

Just when he decided he was alone, a muffled noise from downstairs crawled into his ears.

"Arthur?" he called from one of the guest bedrooms. Alfred stuck his head out the door to call out once more. "Arthuuur?"

In response, the noise sounded again.

The thudding of Alfred's shoes rang through the house another time as he raced down the stairs to greet Arthur with a big grin on his face, bouquet in hand.

But upon reaching the last step, the house appeared as empty as it did when Alfred peered into the window minutes ago.

Grunting in confusion, Alfred further delved into the hallway across the entrance to search for the source of whatever he heard. He didn't have to too long for it clearly echoed through the house from the basement.

_Of course! _Arthur would have to be there! After all, he was normally oblivious to anyone else's presence while in the basement.

Repeating his earlier grin, Alfred pulled the door open and flicked the switch.

There, in the heart of the basement was not Arthur, though. Instead a large black bubbling cauldron had greeted him, emitting another rumble.

Alfred puffed his cheeks and furrowed his eyebrows. "Stupid pot." So far, the day was not going as he wanted. Arthur wasn't swooning over him and he was starting to feel impatient. Lazily, his hands dropped in front of him, several rose petals falling too, and he stomped away down the basement's stairs to investigate the thing that had fooled him.

He was aware that strange things happened in the basement, so it wasn't a complete surprise to find a great cauldron filled halfway with a thick purple goo.

It was truly an odd thing though, the cauldron. There was no fire under it, yet the contents bubbled as if boiling over heat, even emitting a strange lavender steam. The floor next to it, also unusual, had been drawn upon with chalk. The white, textured lines meeting to form nothing Alfred recognized. Just a bunch of circles with squiggly doodles in it, with the cauldron residing at it's side. Pretty hypocritical since Arthur would always scold Alfred as a child for drawing on the walls. Alfred dipped his head over the cauldron to get a better look. However, the stench of whatever was in it overwhelmed him, and he pulled back, covering his mouth and nose to shield his senses, dropping the bouquet in the midst of it.

Like everyone else in the world, Alfred knew Arthur wasn't exactly the best cook. But, really, this was downright disgusting. A tear was stinging to escape from his eye, and he backed away in an attempt to lift the feeling.

As Alfred took a step behind, his back hit something hard and a clattering resounded against him.

Turning around, he was met with a vast collection of glassed liquids. They were in an assortment of colors and shapes, several even containing what appeared like the insides of small animals.

Hands releasing his lower face, Alfred eyed the shelf in awe. Each vial piquing his curiosity for every one was not the same. Different contents, shades, textures. Some appearing to glow.

On the shelf above his head, he picked up a small glass jar with a dazzling emerald liquid that all too much reminded Alfred of Arthur's eyes. He smiled at the thought and a great idea struck him.

_If I fix up his nasty stew, he'll be totally grateful and see what a thoughtful guy I am! _In his mind, Alfred saw Arthur absolutely taken by this act of kindness— showing his appreciation by admitting how cool he always believed Alfred to be and what a talented cook he was. Face not so different from Feliciano's, he laughed dreamily as he emerged from his fantasy,

Quickly, the clanking resumed as his hands flew to find the brightest, most pretty liquids. The task wasn't that hard. In mere seconds, in Alfred's arms was a rainbow of glowing bottles. He happily plopped in front of the bubbling cauldron, and pulled out the cork of a shining pink bottle to poor the contents in.

When the two substances met, a fiery orange smoke erupted, replacing the lavender one for an instant before disappearing. By the new heavenly aroma the new stew produced, Alfred figured he was doing the right thing.

One by one, the stew was mixing with sparkling sapphire goops, streams of violet liquids, golden clumps, and velvety black fluids. The steam transformed into different shades and gave off unlikely smells, despite what was poured into the cauldron. By the fickle nature of it, the stew had probably experienced every color possible.

At the very last vial, containing an almost feather-light liquid with a peachy color, Alfred's hastiness allowed a bit of it to trail— rather, slink around like a snake— around his fingertip before dropping into the cauldron.

Little yellow puffs swam out of the cauldron, into the air. Most likely a sign that the previous vial and the stew had mixed cooperatively Alfred assumed.

Once satisfied with the stew's current condition— a smooth turquoise liquid, releasing a scent that struck him as the tea Arthur always drank— he grinned in triumph.

"Alfred?" Arthur's voice suddenly erupted from upstairs. "Alfred! I know you're here— you dumped your bag by the door again!"

_He's home!_ Alfred thought with excitement.

"Hell, would it kill you to tell me when you're coming over instead of breaking into my home every time?"

Ignoring Arthur's complaining, Alfred straightened his clothes and posture, swept his hand over his hair, and bolted out of the basement, picking up the bouquet as he escaped.

There, waiting at the foot of the staircase to the first floor was Arthur. He was wearing his usual green sweater vest, and as he should be, looked rather taken aback at Alfred's sudden appearance.

Alfred took that as a good sign.

But caught in this flurry, all the suave comments Alfred had practiced all week disappeared from his brain, and all he could do was shove the bouquet of roses at Arthur's chest and weakly stutter "I- I got these for you. Since they're your favorite and all." Although, that didn't seem like enough, and his mouth began without thinking. "I mean, they are, right? Since you have a bunch of them in your garden— ah crap, you probably already have enough of these then. Here, gimme those, I'll go get you som—"

"Alfred," Arthur interrupted. It was almost a whisper, but Alfred immediately shut up. "This is very sweet of you." He pulled the bouquet to his chest, and admired them with a smile on his face. Alfred's heartbeat began beating too quickly all of a sudden and his face flushed as he wondered why the hell he hadn't done any of this sooner.

"_Unusually_ sweet of you actually." The pleasant look on Arthur's face died as he furrowed his big eyebrows. "These aren't one of those mutant flowers you tried to give me, are they?"

"No! These are completely untouched by Tony's DNA rearranger, I swear!"

"Then what's this about? And why are you dressed... like that?" Arthur's tone may have sounded a bit crude, but he still had that beautiful smile on his face.

"Er, this? Well, yeah, I..." Alfred swallowed hard. This wasn't supposed to be so difficult. Especially after all the preparation he went through for this moment. _C'mon, Al! Tell him! Tell him that... W- What exactly was I gonna tell him again...? Wait. Was I gonna confess before or after the date! Fuck! I didn't even properly greet him! Aaaaauuugh! And I totally forgot to do the cool deep voice!_ Thought after thought bombarded his mind, the cauldron in the basement eventually also finding its way, and he ended up voicing it since it was the only thing he was sure of at the moment. "Oh yeah! That stew you were cooking in the basement— I fixed it up for you!"

Maybe they could have dinner at home. It would just be the two of them, and Arthur would certainly be impressed at how delightful the stew had turned out. _Yeah, that sounds nice..._ Alfred thought proudly.

But his daydream was interrupted by the sound of crinkling plastic.

He looked down to see the rose bouquet strangled in Arthur's fist. Arthur appeared to be no longer entertained with his eyes wide and lips parted in what appeared to be shock— and not the good kind Alfred planned.

"Alfred... Do you mean to tell me you... added more 'ingredients' to the cauldron in the basement?" Arthur asked, looking quite nervous.

Alfred couldn't help being uneasy himself. "Er, yeah. It was gross-smelling and stuff, so I added a little American touch to it, you know—"

Without warning, Arthur pushed passed him and disappeared into the basement.

By the time Alfred rushed to follow him down the stairs, Arthur was already peering cautiously over the cauldron.

"No no no no no," he chanted as he watched the churning liquid. Before Alfred could even ask what the hell just happened, Arthur whipped a finger at him. "YOU! You know the basement is off-limits! I've told you countless times to never come in here!"

"But I—"

"And don't I always tell you to let me know when you're visiting too!"

"Well, this time—"

"Have some consideration— manners! I've taught you better!"

"If you'd just—"

"Then maybe we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"What situation!" Alfred yelled in a rush. Normally, he'd act oblivious, but this time, Alfred really wasn't sure what he had done wrong. One minute he was making Arthur smile— that gorgeous heart-melting smile, the next, he's getting yelled at for no reason. When Arthur doesn't respond, probably trying to catch his breath, Alfred speaks again. "Did I do something wrong?"

Now appearing slightly calmer, Arthur narrowed his eyes— tiredly or angrily, Alfred didn't know. "Yes, Alfred. Something very wrong!" He crossed his arms and proceeded to pace the room. "Ugh, what am I going to do..."

"H- Hey, it's about the stew, right? Don't worry, I just turned it awesome!" It was the truth, and Alfred couldn't help staying by the staircase just in case Arthur decided to get physical. "It was practically vomit, so I put in a bunch of cool sauces in there! Now look at it!"

"You idiot! This isn't stew! Those aren't sauces! And you most certainly did not turn it 'awesome'!" Arthur stomped a foot to the ground, his hands flying with every sentence. "This was a potion I spent _months _brewing! Now you've gone and wasted an entire cauldron of rare ingredients!"

...Huh?

"Idiot, idiot...! Just when I got more Moonstones... I even used all of my precious Ashwinder eggs!

So that's what this was about?

Arthur was furious because of that? Because of his ridiculous belief that he was actually brewing a magical potion? And apparently Alfred had ruined it?

"You're crazy." Alfred simply stated. This whole conversation was stupid. They could be on their date right now, having the time of their lives.

"I am not!" Arthur yelled back, shattering Alfred's thoughts. His face then bended into worry. "Potion brewing is dangerous! You could've gotten—" He paused suddenly, as if he caught himself from saying something he wasn't supposed to.

What? Hurt, killed? Was Arthur possibly worried about him? If Arthur said so, then maybe this conversation was worth something after all.

"My house! You could have burnt it down!" Arthur said immediately.

Oh.

"Well, if you love your house so much, why don't you just marry it!" It was childish, he knew, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. _Stupid Arthur_. _Making me think you actually cared about me...!_

"W- What!" Arthur stuttered, obviously confused. "You're not making any sense!"

"No, you're the one who's not! That—" Alfred countered, hands thrown towards the cauldron. "—isn't a potion! Magic doesn't exist, Arthur!"

"Put your glasses on, you fool! It's right in front of you— all around you!" As Arthur walked forward— most likely prepared to beat Alfred, he suddenly toppled and slipped forward.

But before he could slam into the ground, Alfred sprinted forth and easily caught him.

He had done so without realizing it, so when he noticed his hands were wrapped around Arthur's body— that Arthur was in his arms, his face suddenly burst into a fantastic red. His mind kept screaming at him to do something, take advantage of the situation— anything! But at the same time, his heart was beating frantically, practically drowning out his thoughts.

Before Alfred could act upon his jumbled thoughts, Arthur emerged his head from Alfred's chest with a flustered look of his own. Cheeks pink, green eyes bright and wide, hair slightly more disheveled. He also looked like he had something to say, but appeared very awkward as well.

Alfred couldn't help thinking how cute he looked.

More importantly, maybe it was time he answered Arthur's question from earlier. They hadn't gone on their date, but Arthur definitely loved the flowers along with his outfit, and Alfred did just prove himself a hero. Not to mention they were in each other's arms (even though it was completely unintentional), and this was probably the closest thing to romantic that could ever happen after getting verbally berated with Arthur's fury.

His mind began racing with thoughts of holding Arthur for more reasons than just an accident, how something could really happen if he would just cut to the chase and tell Arthur how he felt.

Alfred gulped, swallowing all of his doubts and fear.

"Arthur," he whispered as he ran his hands from Arthur's back to his shoulders. When they were both standing properly, Alfred began once more. "This... may seem a little sudden— I mean it really shouldn't— er no wait, but anyway I- I think I—" His heart was beating faster with every word, eyes frantically darting back and forth to Arthur and the wall. _Say it! Say it! Hero's don't get scared!_ his mind chided. As a final push, Alfred took a strong, firm step to Arthur. "I love y—"

"You idiot! You spilt the potion!"

"Wha?"

When Alfred peered down, all over his brand new shoes and Arthur's pants was the bright contents of the precious stew Alfred fixed. He had probably knocked a puddle of the contents over when he bolted to save Arthur. The ones on Arthur's pants, Alfred assumed, were made when he took his final step to confession, which ironically completely ruined it.

"Learn to control your strength!" Arthur yelled. He fumbled with the pocket of his pants and pulled out a handkerchief, which he used to promptly wipe away the turquoise off him. "All over my pants... and on the circle... Fucking hell..."

"Here, let the hero clean it up!" It wasn't too late to win Arthur over, right? "I'll go get the mop while you just sit tight!"

Although, as he turned to scurry upstairs, Arthur suddenly called.

"No! Your leaving tracks, take off your shoes, you moron!"

"R- Right! Sorry!" Urgently, he lifted his feet one by one and tugged his shoes off, discarding them behind him. "There! Oh hey, Arthur, can I borrow that handkerchief."

Arthur just finished cleaning himself up with that request. "Yes, yes. Just— you let the potion touch you!" In the process of screaming his head off, he dropped the handkerchief, allowing Alfred to pick it up himself.

"Aren't you tired of yelling already?" Alfred asked half annoyed, half tired. He rubbed the cloth all over his hands, leaving it to gather the stew.

Arthur sprinted to his shelves of bottles. His hands ran across the dozens of glasses that were perched there, knocking several over.

"Shit," Alfred heard Arthur mutter over and over.

"Hey, what's wr—"

It didn't take long for him to realize that the stew that was all over the handkerchief and his fingers had suddenly engulfed both of his hands.

"A- A- Arthur!"

The first thing that popped into his mind was how much it resembled ectoplasm. _Ghost stew!_ Alfred yelled with horror in his mind. "Get it off, get it off!" he cried as he flailed his hands wildly. But it was to no avail, the turquoise stew hardening with every second and moving over his wrists to crawl up his arms.

"Stay where you are, Alfred!" Arthur warned. He was still looking for something on his shelves, in what Alfred hoped was a search for something that would kill the ghost-goo that was coating him.

No matter how much he swung his arms or moved his fingers though, the only thing his hands could feel was the warm slime that was slowly swallowing them.

Arthur turned briefly and cursed aloud before dipping his hand behind the cauldron to pick up a tiny vial. "You used up my dragon venom!"

"Uhhh— no! Yes! Just get this ecto-goop off me!" It gradually slithered under his sleeves, swallowing up his arms.

Arthur cursed once more, then turned back to the shelves. "This'll do," Alfred heard him whisper. He had found whatever he was looking for this time. "Alfred, hold your arms out."

Alfred didn't need to be told twice. He swung his ectoplasm-eaten limbs forward and turned his head away, face contorting into blatant discomfort. "Hurrrrrry!"

With his eyes closed, he heard the pop of a cork followed by the sound of something dripping. He opened an eye to see that Arthur had splashed the contents of the vial all over Alfred's turquoise arms. The goo retreated slowly from Alfred, giving his arm several pinches before turning back into a silky substance that slipped through his fingers.

Alfred couldn't even ask any of the dozen questions he had when Arthur's voice sounded again. "Catch it!"

At the same time Arthur darted forward, so did the puddle, and it gave them no time to even graze it as it glided easily to the chalk drawing Alfred saw earlier.

The goo thinned immediately so it could fit at every crevice that was drawn on. It's appearance now to be a very thin string. As it travelled across the drawing, it perfectly fit itself through every grain, diminishing every single white speck until the chalky circles and scribbles on the ground glowed a bright blue.

Alfred was about to reach for Arthur when the circle emitted a blinding great light, and naturally his arms flew in front of him to cover his face.

_What the hell is happening! Oh shit— his house is fucking haunted! That was probably some evil ghost's stew and I totally fucked it up! No wonder Arthur got so scared! And it was probably trying to eat me since I ruined it's dinner!_

As soon as the light began to subside, Alfred ran and clutched at Arthur's arm. "House— Haunted— Run—" He was about to make his escape out of the clutches of the evil spirit he angered with Arthur's hand in his, but could only tug in place when he didn't feel Arthur budge.

_Shit_.

"Arthur!" he yelled in a panic. Alfred clutched at Arthur's shoulders and began to roughly shake them. "Get out of him, you unholy bastard!"

He looked absolutely stunned. Face pale and even though his eyes were wide open, it looked as if he were looking without seeing. _It's taken his soul! _Alfred panicked inwardly.

"Arthur?" Alfred tried again. Just to make sure it hadn't really happened. That Arthur was still with him.

When he didn't get a response, he angrily whipped his body to face the ghost that stunned Arthur and, even though he didn't say it, practically made Alfred pee his pants as well.

However, when he did turn around, he couldn't help but make the same baffled expression Arthur wore.

At the very heart of the now dimming circle, sat a little boy with golden hair— a little tuft of it sticking out— and great blue eyes. He appeared no older than ten, and was wearing suspenders over his white shirt, which was accompanied by black shorts. He rubbed at his eyes wearily, looking as if he had just woken up.

"...Arthur?" Alfred's younger-self called.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Phew, I've had this unfinished and endlessly edited for the longest time, and here I am so excited that I'm posting it at nearly 2AM on a school night. /sob Anyway this idea has been in my head for a while now and, well, even though I absolutely love jealous!Alfred there isn't much of that. Plus I see him portrayed as suave and dominating too many times, and not enough of him being the oblivious, awkward one. Sooo, I just thought I'd take care of that! ^q^/ It's late and I'm not even sure if I'm making any sense anymore. orz

But thanks for reading!


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